


Love Me Harder

by shelbae



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gentle Sex, Jealousy, Rough Sex, mature to be safe tbh, not too graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 21:41:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2827025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shelbae/pseuds/shelbae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s a comfortable silence, filled with their breaths and the sound of the wind rustling against the walls of Bellamy’s tent. There’s something itching at the back of Clarke’s mind, though, and she can’t seem to shake it. The question spills out of her because she knows it has to be asked.<br/>AKA: Bellamy is too gentle with Clarke during their first time</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Me Harder

**Author's Note:**

> Plz read plz enjoy. And yes the title was inspired by an Ariana Grande song deal with it

When they finally fall into bed together, something that took entirely too long, Bellamy is all soft kisses and gentle touches. He’d run his hand down her body delicately, spreading a low heat throughout Clarke’s entire body. The words he’d mutter to her were soft and pressed against her neck, just enough to give her goosebumps and harden her nipples. Even the kisses he lays there are soft and his tongue is hesitant, almost. When Bellamy puts his fingers where she needs them most, where they join one another, her eyes screw shut and she moans out his name in a rattling breath and he comes soon after, a soft smile lighting his face.

But the hand he has on her hip never tightens, and his thrusts were never anything but maddeningly slow, _slow_ , and Clarke can’t help but feel as if he was holding back from her. Or _for_ her.

Afterward, Bellamy lays on his back and pulls Clarke against his side. His body is warmth beneath the blanket, and she lays her head on his shoulder and slowly rises and falls in time with his breaths. His hand rubs against the curve of her spin, occasionally dipping to cup her bottom, and her fingers are tracing light patterns against his chest. It’s a comfortable silence, filled with their breaths and the sound of the wind rustling against the walls of Bellamy’s tent. But there’s something itching at the back of Clarke’s mind, though, and she can’t seem to shake it. The question spills out of her because she knows it has to be asked.

"You know this wasn't my first time, right?" Clarke asks him, almost worried about the answer.

"Yeah," Bellamy says gruffly. He runs a light hand between her shoulder blades, making her shiver. "You and Spacewalker--"

"He wasn't my first, either."

Bellamy's hand freezes and Clarke feels his muscles stiffen beneath her hand. She sighs deeply and sits up with her elbows on either side of his waist, so she can place her chin on his chest and look at his face.

Bellamy's jaw is set and his eyes are hard, but it isn't in anger. She's seen him jealous before -- that one time she'd flirted with a boy who wasn't Finn, after drinking too much of Monty and Jasper's moonshine and thought it was a good idea to express her interest in his arm muscles -- but this isn't the almost playful comments and quips he'd usually give her.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asks in a terse voice. Even his eyebrows seem jealous, and it's usually something she'd make fun of him about, but not this time.

"I didn't think it was important.” Clarke shrugs and raises an eyebrow at him. "It's not, is it?"

"Of course not," he says in a voice that hints otherwise. "I just feel like I should know."

"If it's not important why do you want to know?" She’s got him, but he won’t just admit it. He loves to argue with her, even if it is in more of the form of a discussion.

"You know I've slept with other girls."

"Yes, mostly because the first few days after we landed you felt like it was easier just to keep your shirt off than on." She gives him a pointed look and his jaw tightens gain. He averts his eyes from her, and she can't help but get a sick satisfaction from making Bellamy Blake flinch. "I was a little more subtle."

He has his hands on her waist, in a way that would give off a protectiveness to anyone else in the room. But they're alone, and his hands tighten against her in ways only she can read. His fingernails bite into her skin and its not so much painful as worrying, that he would be jealous of something that happened so long ago. Clarke pulls his hands off of her body and holds them in front of her mouth, gently kissing the pad of each digit and rubbing his hands with her thumb, and then kissing the rough, slightly scarred knuckles, until his shoulders become less tense and the core underneath her body relaxes.

"I know you care who it was, Bell, and you don't have to pretend not to," she says, eyeing his face. Eyeing how the furrowed eyebrows and hard eyes transform into a softly parted mouth and how the candle light flits across his cheekbones and eyelids. "But it's in the past and it's not important. This is now, and you're what's important to me."

With that, Clarke presses a kiss against his chest, the hollow of his throat, the junction of the jaw right next to his ear. He shivers as she sinks below the fur blanket and places an open mouthed kiss to his hip and below his navel.

"Okay?" She asks him, dancing a finger over the outside of his thigh.

Bellamy nods and runs a loose hand through her hair, pulling at the knots that had formed. She hums lightly against his chest and waits for the inevitable question.

"So, compared to your others, where do I stand?"

His voice conveys a tone of joking but she knows him too well to believe it entirely. His ego is just as fragile as any man's, too easy to break and not easy enough to put back together. She has to be careful with her answer.

"You were lovely. The utter gentleman," Clarke says, grinning, and he lets out a little huff of laughter. "You sure know how to show a girl a good time."

He smiles wide at this one and the deep chuckle he lets loose reverberates through Clarke's chest. "Any other comments, princess? Critiques on my technique?"

 _Now or never._ "You’re going to have to be rougher with me."

"Rougher?" he asks, and she's could swear there was a hint of red in his cheeks. His hand on the small of her back halts again, but maybe this time it's good.

"Yeah." She runs her fingers along his collarbones. _Clavicle, connects the shoulder to the breastbone._  "You treated me like I was going to break, Bellamy. I appreciate it, really, but I can handle more. I'm a big girl."

He mutters something lowly, that even she can't quite make out, before asking, "How rough, princess?"

Theres a blush on her cheeks, because she’s never this straight forward, but she grins wickedly at him anyway and whispers against his ear, "I want to be fucked, Bellamy, not coddled. Understand?"

As a response, he tightens his arm around her and flips them over so he's pressed against her from above. And later, when he pulls Clarke’s hair tight and slams into her from behind, she can hardly remember her own name, much less the first boy she was with after landing.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This has been a headcanon of mine for a while now and I enjoyed writing it  
> P.S: I wish this was longer but I also feel like it's at a good place.


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